


Pink Lemonade

by navree



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, and I'll defend her with my dying breath, and she's super cute, because things happened tonight, but also there's some jimjake undertones, but they're very slight, they cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/pseuds/navree
Summary: You know how whenever there's a crisis, you attach a -gate suffix at the end now? Yeah, this is Pink Suit-gate.Liz wears a pink suit on the first day they're both at the White House in a while. Jim has some thoughts about it.





	Pink Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [retweet_this](https://archiveofourown.org/users/retweet_this/gifts), [ruthvsreality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/gifts).



> y'all that pink suit sure was something. it was........huh. as i write this liz hasn't posted a selfie and no one else in the pool has stepped up to the plate so i guess i'm just gonna have to do my part to feed the poor starving masses. also this is the first of two ficlets i'm writing tonight based around cnn's fuckery this here monday.  
> as always, comments (either positive or constructive) are always welcome and much appreciated!

The fact that she didn't, you know, call or text or warn him in any way is honestly a little rude. Not that Liz needs his approval before going out in any outfit at all. This isn't even about approval. This is about not being ambushed when he's at work. 

Jim's been preparing himself basically all day. He's out of the studio and back at the most hostile White House this country's ever seen And because Matt had told him that they'd be doing some correspondence with Anderson 360º and apparently Jake Tapper's gonna be in studio for the panel. Which is...Well, it's definitely something. He's bracing himself for that too. 

What he's not braced for is Liz, calmly at the White House, in that pink pantsuit. 

Jim hasn't seen a whole lot of her in the past week. He spent the majority of his time in studio to fill in for Wolf, and then spent the weekend all but living on his boat just to fucking unwind. He wasn't even aware she was going to be at the White House today, which is in and of itself no big deal. They see each other in public, it happens. 

But while he's seen that suit in Liz's closet, he's very certain it's the first time he's seen her wearing it. Pink pants, tight, pink suit jacket, silky looking white blouse, strappy pink heels. With her coloring, blond and tanned, it's a really good look on her. 

The other problem with hardly ever seeing his girlfriend for an entire seven days? Jim hasn't had sex for an entire seven days. Not that he thinks about sex all the time, he doesn't. But still. You know. Liz is gorgeous, and he's a man of only so much resistance. You know how whenever there's a crisis, you attach a -gate suffix at the end now? Yeah, this is Pink Suit-gate. It's such a good look on her, and he almost forgets to talk when he walks up to her.

"Hey." Liz glances up at him and smiles. She's got pink lipstick on it. If Jim remembers correctly, pink is her favorite color. "You didn't tell me you were doing the White House today." 

"Well, considering you were MIA," the way she says it makes it clear she doesn't hold a grudge, "Besides, isn't it everyone at the White House today? It's kind of a big moment." Jim's skin crawls. 

"Well, everyone important is at the White House." It's sappy but he says it anyway because seeing her in that damn pantsuit seems to have obliterated his brain to mouth filter. She's just that damn pretty. She blushes prettily too. 

"You're biased," she chastises. 

"On my honor I'm not." He places a hand on his heart and is rewarded with Liz laughing at him. "Although you should have at least told me you were here, so I could mentally prepare myself for your outfit." 

"What's wrong with my outfit?" She brushes a hand along it as she does and shit Elizabeth don't do that it makes him weak kneed. "This is my favorite work outfit." 

"As it should be, you look amazing." 

Liz smiles at him appreciatively, and as it often does it makes something in Jim's chest feel warm. 

 

 

 

There's a lull in the day's activities, and most people have actually wandered out to get lunch or find shelter in any air conditioned places they can find. Liz has unbuttoned her suit jacket and, in probably the most openly affectionate they'll ever be because almost no one is around and it's gearing up to be a long day, has her head on his shoulder. 

It's really hard not to just run his fingers through her hair. 

"Fuck it's hot." She says it low in her throat, soft. Jim's mind goes to the last time they were on his boat and they... _Don't judge him he hasn't had sex in seven days!_

"You could take the jacket off," he suggests, whispering it in her ear. She shifts against his shoulder and hums. 

"It works with the outfit," Liz tells him. He makes a small noise. It does work with the outfit, but the outfit would surely work without it. And then, glancing around the sparsely populated landscape, he has an idea. 

"The West Wing is practically abandoned," he tells her. Liz pushes off him and stares. 

"Are you saying that ideologically, or literally?" To be fair, the statement's true no matter which way you spin it. If Jim wanted to save face he could say he was making a metaphorical case. But there's something curiously intense in Liz's eyes.

"At the moment, literally." In yet another daring display, he brushes a strand of blond hair away from her face. "Just in case you wanted to get out of that very hot pantsuit." Jim lets the double entendre hang in the air. She raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Is the West Wing air conditioned?" It's a rhetorical question, or at least a question he doesn't need to answer, because she's been there before, she knows it is. in fact, if they do this, it won't even the first time they've indulged themselves at the White House. So Jim nods, and appreciates the way her eyes darken slightly. "I feel like exploring, suddenly." Liz stands, and even offers her hand.

He takes it. Her skin is warm and soft. 

"Let's go then." 

 

 

 

They find an unoccupied office, an office that's been unoccupied for quite a while, fairly quickly. This has got to be the most poorly staffed White House in the the past twenty years. For once, that's working in someone's favor. 

The door's barely closed before he's kissing her. Or she's kissing him. They're kissing. It feels good. She's a good kisser. He's a good kisser. They are, both of them, good kissers, and in her heels the height difference is lessened so that Jim doesn't have to bend down as much as usually to meet her lips. She's got him pressed up against the wall, her nails running through his hair. 

They're painted pink too. 

Jim slept with a lot of people after he and Sharon called it quits. He had good sex, and he had bad sex. Sometimes he even had great sex. But, and bear in mind this could just be a big cliché, he doesn't think he ever had amazing post divorce sex until Liz. Maybe because she was young. Or maybe because she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at. 

Maybe because, somewhere along the way, she made him feel loved again, for the first time in a long time. Maybe all of those things. 

Jim has his hands framing his face and he'd be quite content kissing her and kissing her until her lipstick's rubbed off and her nails are biting into his scalp enough to make him wince. If they had time, they'd do that. If they had time, he would take his. 

He would kiss her and he'd peel off this absolutely divine outfit with careful precision, because he's not going to ruin her favorite work outfit. Kiss his way down, settle his face between her legs, feel her fingers in his hair and the shake of her thighs, and _take his time_. That's what he'd do, among other things, of equally rank filth, if they had time. 

Unfortunately, they do not have time. They literally snuck off to have a quickie in the White House and Liz is unknotting his tie and pushing off his pinstripe blazer and they have the exact opposite of time. They have no time. Well that's fine too. Jim doesn't even bother trying to take off her jacket, just pulls at her blouse until it's untucked and he can slide his hands under, feel her bare skin. She leans into his touch. 

"When you have good ideas," she murmurs. "They're really good." 

"Thank you." She's got a leg hooked around him, and he hoists her up so that they're both locked around him, so that he's supporting all her weight. She makes a gasping noise and loops her arms around his neck. "You do realize we have to be quiet, right?" He brushes some hair back and presses a kiss to the corner of her jaw, feels the stutter of her laugh. 

"No Jim, I was gonna practice my Stormy Daniels impression and make my loudest porn star noises right here in the damn West Wing." 

"Hot," he mumbles against her skin, and nips just a little. Not enough to leave a mark. They're gonna be back in public again soon. But Liz twitches against him when he does that and it's a damned aphrodisiac all on its own. "But seriously-" 

"I will if you will." And before Jim can answer Liz is kissing him again and thank God he has a condom in his wallet because if they did all this, if he saw her like this and touched her like this and kissed her like this and they just ended up grinding and making out like teenagers it would be the worst day ever. 

It's not the worst day ever. 

 

 

 

They do manage to keep relatively quiet. Mostly because there's a lot of kissing, which Jim doesn't mind. Also because he realizes that _oh shit we didn't lock the door_ , but he's already inside her at that point so. 

They keep quiet. 

Has it been more than a year since the trip to the Vatican? Since they first started hanging out and he started entertaining the thought of not sleeping with random women but actually trying his hand at a committed relationship? Of course, they only started "going steady" around September-October las year, but still. More than a year. 

He's wrenched out of his head by Liz making a choked whimpering sound against his mouth, the one that always tells him she's close. 

Except then she's worming a finger between them to press against his lips, making a sharp shushing noise. There are voices, and they both turn their heads towards the door, waiting with baited breath. The voices grow louder, and then fade. Thank God. Liz moves her hand, and he drops his forehead against her's. 

"That was mildly terrifying," he whispers, and he's given a smile. "Who do you think it was?" 

"Hm." Liz traces a finger along his neck. It makes him shiver. "Sarah Sanders maybe." Jim makes a face. 

"Maybe," he acquiesces. "She does a habit of trying to ruin everything about my life." This time Liz laughs, and he along with her. She shifts, presses closer, wraps her arms around his neck and noses against him. 

"New rule, let's _not_ talk about the fucking Press Secretary during sex." Jim kisses her cheek, on impulse, and moves. She gasps. 

"Deal." 

 

 

 

It's a long day, and he finishes after she does. He does correspondence for 360º, for other shows, and then sticks around just to make sure everything's well and done. It would have been a miserable day, except that his brief interlude with Liz nudges at the back of Jim's head, pricks some liveliness back into him along the base of his spine. 

Jim knocks at her door. She answers. 

"Hey." Liz seems nonplussed that he showed up. She lets him in. She's still wearing the world's most amazing pink suit, but she's discarded the heels for simple bare feet. Jim's pretty sure she wore this suit just to turn on everyone who's ever been attracted to women. If these people are humans with eyes that can see properly, it should work. 

"You mind?" He doesn't want to infringe on her space. 

"Course not." _Course not._ Like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like he's not intruding in her life by being too old and loving her too much. 

Yeah, it's love. Sue him. 

"Thanks." There's something rotating in the microwave, providing a mechanical background hum. Liz hops up on the counter, and they're at eye level, her feet swinging slightly. It's really cue. 

"I hope you're OK with leftovers, because that's literally all I have." He nods, comes closer, presses what's supposed to be a chaste kiss against her lips. Except she tugs him closer, wraps her arms around him almost like a hug. Jim's lips move along her throat. "OK, if we're doing this again, I need to take the suit off first." 

"Not that I'm complaining, but why? It's a very pretty suit." He feels her laugh, real and genuine and patently Liz. Carefree, that's the word for it. He likes making her laugh. 

"Because I really like this suit and I don't want it to get wrinkled." She's still giggling slightly, and the first word that comes to his mind is mirthful. He pulls away with a nod, though not before Liz catches his face in her hands, palms against his cheeks, fingers brushing along his hair. She's biting down on a smile, has a soft look in her eye. Jim is fairly certain he's got the exact same look. 

"Hi." Might be a stupid thing to say, but it's been a long day and she makes him feel punch drunk, so it's the only thing that comes to mind. He pushes her hair back, it's a bit messy and it's soft so he likes having his fingers in it almost as much as she apparently likes having her fingers in his. 

"Hi," Liz says back. 

Jim is seized with a sudden, wild thought. Maybe Liz loves him too. That would be the dream, wouldn't it. There has to be something there, for her, or else why would she stick around? It's a nice thought to indulge in, and Liz's apartment is warm without being too warm and he loves her and she looks at him like if he told her she would say it back to him. 

Jim doesn't know it yet, but he's hit the nail right on the head. 


End file.
